Warp Dust
by Haegr
Summary: Captain Aramus had thought that with the return of Guilliman, everything would be fine. But fate is not yet finished with him, and soon he will find a world that is beyond his understanding. He will need to find a way back to his men, and may the Emperor have mercy on any Grimm getting in his way. A soft sequel to After the End. Contains graphic violence and some mild swearing.
1. Arrival

Author's notes: This is just a fan story, and thus not a canonical or officially endorsed product by any IP holder and owner.

The story takes place around five years following "After the End". Jonah Orion was possessed by a daemon, but he managed to get it exorcised and thus survived the encounter, if carrying some trauma.  
Angelos sent Aramus, Avitus and Thaddeus to help purge the rest of the Chapter while Diomedes, Cyrus and Martellus went on to fight Kyras.  
The heroes of the 4th Company were reunited and with the help of Uriel Ventris, went on to fight the Nightbringer as it regenerated feeding on Haelstorm's star.

I explained Gabriel Angelos's primarch size and Terminator backflips as him being given an early, unstable version of the Primaris Upgrade, with him, Jonah and Diomedes surviving the events of Dawn of War 3. Though the franchise may not be so lucky.

For now, there are no plans on additional personnel, as one space marine is a powerful enough fighter in his own right. I will try my best to respect the canon if I can, though some parts of the Chibi series may bleed over.

The Imperial Guard and Eldar are often figured in these strange encounters, so I decided to go with a Space Marine. While the Ynnari Eldar seem to be far more pragmatic and reasonable than the older Eldar iterations, I doubt they are in a formal alliance with the Imperium.

My interpretation on the Primaris Marines is what I would think most "regular" space marines would feel. The Primaris seem as much a product of the Great Crusade as their helms suggest, and thus those not in Primaris only new Chapters would need to adapt to the ways of their brothers.

I went against the full replacement of Astartes by Primaris because I feel like Primaris units are all specialists, and that they can not fully fill out an army. They sorely lack any long range anti tank firepower and their weaponry is almost fully limited to bolt and plasma weapons.  
Thus there would still be need for regular marine type squads. Perhaps even for Primaris marines in Tactical like squads, with some carrying bolt rifles, others plasma rifles and some carrying missile launchers.

Thus it seemed logical that even if eventually all marines got upgraded to Primaris, they would keep their old wargear loadout and would try to keep the older Mark VII look, as well as other Chapter specific looks, like Primaris Space Wolves with wolf helmets, Primaris Black Templars with knight helmets, Primaris Imperial Fists with Mark III helmets, Primaris Raven Guard with Mark VI helms and so on. Same would go for their wargear, with some having Aquilas or chapter badges on their breastplace.

The recent release of the Primaris Victrix honour guard actually implies this process, as their helms mirror the eagle helms of both Heresy era and regular Ultramarine honour guards. It makes perfect sense that the Primaris would start to take on the culture of their adoptive chapters and thus modify their wargear to look like it.

* * *

He remembered what happened after his unlucky encounter in the Veralis system, and the cataclysmic battle with that most terrible of all the Star Gods.

He looked up at Gabriel Angelos, Chapter Master of his order and knew something was horribly different. Once his equal in stature, the venerable warrior was now a towering giant who could have looked Guilliman himself in the eye. He bore his artificer Terminator armour, a mix of ancient Tartaros and Cataprachtii plates, with the ease and agility that would have outdone all but the swiftest of Eldar Harlequins.

Aramus was dwarfed in the same way he towered over a human. As his Chapter Master told him what transpired in his abscence, his hearts sank with dismay.

Belisarius Cawl. Primaris Astartes. Enhanced Gene-seed. An organ to boost biochemistry. An organ to revive a near dead Astartes. Muscles enhanced with flexible stands of Durasteel, for even if Plasteel and Adamantium were much harder, they were too rigid and too heavy. Towering warriors a head taller than he was, clad in identical rows of Mark X Tacticus armour. Which to him seemed like someone put a Mark IV Maximus helmet on an oversized Mark VIII Errant battle plate, but there was subtle differences. Better protected knees and terminator like waist plates, but less protected joints.

That was not what disquieted him. It was that these new brothers were all alike. There was nothing different about them, they were more akin to Skitarii constructed from a template than an Angel of Death. Constructs made to a uniform pattern, not heroes bearing the deeds of millenia on their unique and sacred wargear.

They were now his brothers, the fore runners of a new army to be born after Cawl returns from Cadia. He swore there and then to the Emperor that he would not be replaced. He would not become one of the identical automatons, one of the identical mass produced horde. He would make Blood Ravens out of these soldiers, warrior heroes who were each a testament to the Imperium's might, bright with the heraldy of the Chapter and the symbols of purity.

It was a slow process, but it gained speed after Chaplain Diomedes returned with Angelos and Jonah from the Acheron system. Bolt Rifles were now cleaned with the proper litanies to the Machine Spirits, and plain Tacticus armour adorned with the purity seals and chapter honours that made each new Primaris brother stand out as a true Astartes, an inheritor to the noblest and holiest of all Imperial institutions.

Brother Sergeant Karolis of the Hellblasters had his helmet altered to match the snarling visage of an Errant helm, Brother Gaius of the Intercessors adorning his Bolt Rifle with an Aquila all by himself. Brother Learus used a Mark III Iron helm, and Brother Victus had the Imperialis on his chestplate replaced with an Aquila.  
Golden icons and scripture gleamed where once plain red armour was. Tacticus helmets mixed in with Errant helms, and each Primaris brother was now an individual hero of the Chapter, his armour taking the first steps in becoming a relic in its own right.

Aramus had been proud, proud enough to let Apothecary Medicius try the still experimental Rubicon Primaris on him. It was not the too powerful version that turned Angelos into the size of a primarch and made his body reject his augmetic eye, nor was it the more advanced one that would later turn Calgar into the herald of a new age.

It was designed to let him take the three new Primaris organs, but his stature did not rise to the same level as a true Primaris marine. He was half a head taller, but not a head taller than his regular brothers. Techmarine Martellus refitted his Armour of Glory with enhanced Tacticus systems, adding the heavier limb plating and keeping the advanced joint protection of the artificier made Errant pattern. Named the Mark IX Imperator armour, after another name for the Mark VIII Aquila, it was a template for the old Astartes to join the ranks of the new while still keeping their old wargear that has served for thousands of years and was worn by a hundred heroes of the Imperium for whom the Black Bell of Terra tolled.

This was not just a matter of pride, since Tacticus armour was just as rare as the Errant pattern. However, almost all of his brothers have kept the Mark VII Aquila helmet design, for it was by far the most intimidating of all standard patterns and an Astartes was nothing if not a terror trooper. The second most popular was the Phobos pattern Skull helm of the Reavers, though Aramus had the suspicion that it would have become standards with all types of Space Marine if it was more accessible.

Thus did he become at once a monument to the past, and herald of the future. For as effective as the Primaris formations were, they were more akin to the Eldar Aspect warriors. They excelled at one task, but were less suited for smaller engagements that called for more versatile weaponry. The Lascannons of Devastators and the Power blades of Assault marines would still be needed amongst the stars.

Five years after the waking of the Avenging Son, the Primaris marines and regular Blood Ravens were as one. Most of the brothers were not yet upgraded to the new Gene-seed, but even as the Primaris marines took the grilled helms of the old, so did some of the old officers took to the Tacticus helmets.  
Nowdays it was just as common to see a brother in Errant armour with a Tacticus helmet as a Primaris brother in a Tacticus armour with an Errant helmet. It was not just the Blood Ravens. While some Chapters like the Ultramarines strictly kept to separate patterns, most Primaris Black Templars have either donned older crusader helmets, or had their owns modified to reflect the knightly traditions of their Chapter.  
Of course not all were satisfied, for the Sons of Corax still worked in their armouries to somehow get a beaked Corvus pattern helm fitted onto a Gravis armour, but without success to date.

The older Chapters with ties to the Great Crusade favoured the Mark IV and Mark X, while the newer ones often kept the intimidating helms that for them represented the Astartes long before their own foundings. There were anomalis of course, like the Charcarodons Astra opting for Mark IV and Mark X whenever it was possible.

None from the past ages of old Earth would have called this anything but a lessening of stagnation, but for the Imperium, it was a flurry of innovation unseen in eleven thousand years.  
Terminator brothers were seen with underslung bolters on their Power Fists, and Blood Angel Reavers took to carrying Power Swords to enhance the power of their terrifying ambushes. Space Wolf Inceptors deployed compact, hand held Multi Meltas before dropping from orbit onto cultist tank columns.

Adeptus Custodes fought side by side with Astartes and on rare occasions, daemonic incursions were met with a force of gold and silver, Custodian and Grey Knight fighting together against the forces of the Warp, both uncorruptable and born from the pure stock of the Emperor Himself.

Not every organisation was happy with the newly added forces, old or new. The Sisters of Silence and Sisters of Battle were notorius for their rivalry, calling each others fanatics and soulless abominations. Long abandoned, the Silent Sisterhood believed that the fanatics were unjustly swimming in the riches of the Ecclesiarchy, while the Convents of the Sororitas held the pariahs as a particularly vile form of abomination, forever untouchable by the God Emperor's Light.

The Imperium was riven with strife over the return of Guilliman and the opening of the Cicatrix Maledictum, but the Astartes and Mechanicus were thriving, let loose of their millenia old chains in order to stop the Thirteenth Black Crusade. After all, what mattered the balance of power if Abaddon reached Terra?

The Captain of the Blood Ravens Fourth Company started donning his armour. There were World Eaters to kill just a system away.

* * *

The gargantuan, warp forged chain axe of the Kytan Daemon Engine crashed down onto the ground. A split second ago, Captain Aramus had been standing exactly in the same spot that was now an obliterated gash in the rockcrete deep enough for a Guardsman to hide in.

Driven to back to Hive Primus, capital of Lorrax, the World Eaters were bending every effort they could into exacting a tide of blood for their defeat. The Fourth Company of the Blood Ravens kept pushing the blood crazed Berzerkers back and back until the heretical warband made a desperate last stand at the Fields of Piety, which was used in times past as a parade ground for the newly founded local Regiments.

Devastator Squad Avitus was pouring lascannon fire into the behemoth, but the powerful energised lasers only left blasted grooves in its unnaturally resilient hide. Terminator Squad Tarkus was doing what they could to suppress the remaining few Berzerkers, with Squad Thaddeus taking care of any that got too close to the Devastators. Davian Thule stood triumphant upon the wrecked remains of a Chaos land raider, his Powerfists tearing the last of its blasphemeous passangers into atomised dust. Hellblaster squad Karolis poured plasma into a pack of flesh hounds, disintegrating the lesser daemons in a blaze of holy starfire.

Dead World Eaters littered the ground, their armour rent by the fire of the Emperor's Chosen as well as whatever stray heavy weaponry the Guard managed to hit them with. He had kept Astartes casaulities low by letting the Praetorian Guard take the hits from the blood maddened Chaos Marines. The victory would have been flawless... if not for the gigantic walker with the essence of a Bloodthrister bound into its hell forged frame.

For something the size of a large Knight, the Khytan was hellishly fast. A trio of gutted Leman Russes were arranged around it, thrown around by the brutal axe strikes that could have rent a Land Raider clearly in half. He dodged another swing of the monstrous chain axe and fired up with his Volkite Serpenta. The crimson beam of thermal fire hit the infernal walker's faceplate, doing considerable harm to the brass skull decorations but accomplishing nothing else.

The Blade of the Unrelenting slashed out at the left leg joints of the rampaging monster, cleaving through its hellmetal gears with power more often seen in a Thunder Hammer. He barely had time to roll away as the infernal machine roared out in more outrage than pain, blasting hundreds of warp-powered shells after its elusive prey.

Aramus quickly realised that as fast as he was, he was just too slow to get behind the creature. It was a blur of bloody motion, coated with the viscera of an entire Platoon of Guardsmen. He raised his Storm Shield as the barrage got closer, the spray of daemonic rounds taxing the power of his powerpack to its limits. Only the combined protection of his shield and Iron Halo saved him from being reduced to a tattered ribon of ceramite, adamantium and transhuman flesh.

He was running out of time. He quickly stabbed out with his holy Power Sword at the intact leg of the Chaos walker, the blade blessed by Azariah Vidya burning with golden fire as it cleaveed the unclean metal of blood stained pistons. The daemonic machine staggered, and he knew it was now, or never.

Astartes always had a conscious control over their bodies, but this was not total. The Belisarian Furnace was designed to be used upon the brink of death, and not activated whenever someone desired to. In a microsecond, he willed both hearts to stop and hyper adrenaline to release from his altered glands. His vision greyed out for a moment as the new organ kicked in, pumping an overdose of combat hormones and nutrients into his hearts, kickstarting his metabolism.

Already fast beyond the conception of mortal men, the boost delivered to his body sent his superhuman biology into overdrive. As the wounded Chaos machine turned, he ducked a blow from its massive cleaver and lept upon its shoulder in a single bound. His blade lashed out once more, cleaving ruin into the faceplate of the roaring abomination.

Muscles enhanced by flexible yet diamond hard durasteel coils lent every blow the force to cleave through a Tyranid Carnifex's body even without the atom-shredding power field of the holy blade. But this was no mere creature of natural laws, this was a horror crafted in the Daemonic forges of the Dark Mechanicum. Its armour resisted that which no matter ought to resist, for its enchanted material cared not for the bonds between atoms.

Oily gore ran down the ruined face of the bound Bloodthrister, its eyes blinded as it flailed with undimmed fury at the crimson figure standing on its shoulders. He had half a minute before its matter be mended by foul sorcery, which was more than enough to holster his blade to his side and drew a melta bomb. He affixed it between the Kytan's helm and its power plant, setting the detonator with a vox impulse to blow in three seconds. Plenty of time to get far away.

Plenty of time to get far away for an Astartes who is not suddenly pushed into the shoulders of the beast by the handle of chain axe thicker than a mortal's torso. A warcry of glorious victory died before the Captain could utter it. Even his blessed Power armour would be instantly vapourised by the bomb in two seconds, and he knew it. There was no time to do anything else but activate the Teleporter built into his power pack, and the world vanished in a golden flash.

The Kytan stood there for a moment, its axe pushed against its now unoccupied pauldrons, before the melta bomb detonated and the entire torso of the unholy construct evaporated in a nuclear blast hotter than any star.

For a moment, he was at once compressed into a black hole and scattered across dimensions. The Warp howled against his mind, a strain that very few mortals save the most holy of Inquisitors could withstand. Then it was nothing but darkness, and he knew no more.

* * *

He awoke with a sudden jolt, coming instantly to full awareness so unlike the grodgy, gradual waking of a baseline human. His Power Armour sent updates to his brain, signalling that the power reserves of the miniature plasma reactor in his backpack were dangerously low, below the five percent margin.  
The armour had automatically switched to a power conservation mode. He tried to ping his brothers over the vox, but there was nothing. A wide array search still revealed nothing, and his rebooting autosenses picked up nothing but the rustling of leaves in the wind.

Green lens started to glow with returning power as he beheld the ground below him, or rather, a forest floor covered by reddish grass. His olfactory sensors picked up the myriad scents that were usual for a Terra type forest. This was not the hive world of Lorrax.  
The air was too clear. The last forests were cut down on that planet some twenty centuries ago. The gravity of Lorrax was 1.2 Terran standard, this planet's was 0.9.

The mind of an Astartes was faster and sharper than that of a man. The deductions came instantly. He was on a different planet. Teleporter accidents sometimes happened. It could have been worse. He could have ended up blown apart with the Kytan, or fused into the corpse of a fallen Ogryn, a blown up streetcar, or just lost in the Warp for thousands of years, slowly going mad as the Empyrean ate away at his mind.

The Belisarian Furnace was supposed to be activated only in Extremis, and his reckless move had put much strain on even his Astartes physiology. His entire body burned with an agony that even his altered and conditioned mind had trouble fully suppressing. It was like undergoing an amputation over and over again. His head throbbed in a way it never did since he left the mines of Calderis as a boy.

But he was a Space Marine. Pain was an illusion of the senses, and despair was something he could no longer feel. He started to get up, with what would have caused ridicule and catcalls of 'old man' would there have been any Space Wolf nearby to see him in such a state. At least the Iron Halo had protected his armour from damage, but it had also drained it almost fully.

His movements were awkward and heavy, resemblind those of an Inquisitor in training. Any Battle Sister could have gotten up with far more grace and agility, for the warrior nuns of the Emperor were the most elite of any mortal fighting force the Imperium could muster.  
The Preysight mode filtered the heat readouts over the night vision image as he looked around, seeing that the forest was what humans would term lovely. It was quiet, peaceful, and quite free of the carnivorous flora found on Death Worlds.

Astartes in general towered over humans in intellect, bar a few Space Wolves, but those made up for it with insane bravery and riding giant wolves to battle. Some Chapters like the Blood Ravens took it even further, making great care that their warriors were as intellectually prepared as they were martially.

Thus Aramus looked up at the sky to get at least a relative bearing upon where he was. The Cicatrix Maledictum was easily visible through the galaxy, since the infernal purplish-black unlight emitted by the Warp Rift did not obey such trivialites as the limit on the speed of light. But all he could see was a shattered moon.

It looked to have been recently blasted apart by a small fleet or a few lesser Cyclonic warheads, the chunks still close to the moon and not having fallen back to it, fallen to the planet, or spread out in a ring. He was no Adept of the Machine god, but it meant that the event was relatively recent, most likely only a few decades old, but most likely less.

First, that infernal warp gate to an abysmal galaxy full of annoying redheaded women, and now this. The Emperor really needed to take better care of him, he thought. With such luck, he could become a honorary Lamenter. No, the Lamenter's Chapter Master. Not that he would ever paint a garish heart symbol on his armour. He was a Blood Raven, the Emperor's Angel of Death, not angel of mercy.

But the Inquisition teaches that every problem is a solution in disguise, so he looked around to see the sky being brighter to what his armour told him was the South.  
He started walking towards civilisation, as alert as he could be with his armour slowing him down. He would need to find an electrical outlet soon, because while the power pack's system could absorb sunlight and turn water into hydrogen fuel, that took way too much time. Time he did not have if this planet turned out to be under the sway of Chaos.


	2. Transhuman Dread

He walked slowly for one of the Emperor's Finest, his steps mechanical and heavy, more akin to the stride of a Kastelan robot than the graceful, swift stride of an Angel of Death. The armour was slowing him down considerable, but not for a moment did the thought of abandoning it enter his mind. It took him five minutes to cross a kilometer, which made him feel like a slug.

His body had already repaired itself, and the armour shut off all non essential functions to preserve power. It barely assisted his movements, but he still whispered a prayer of thanks to its Machine Spirit. It looked after him, but now was his turn to look after it.

It was still filtering his blood, drawing out waste products and restructuring them into nutrients. Carbion dioxide was split into oxygen and carbon, with the latter being recycled back into his body alongside what tiny amount of moisture his breathing produced.

Astartes physiology was almost unnaturally efficient. It produced no waste beside carbon dioxide, was almost totally self reliant on water and heat regulation, and required less food than an adult human, for it used energy with an efficiency that some Apothecaries believed actually violeted the laws of physics, a clear sign that the Gene-seed imparted a tiny portion of the Emperor's divine power into His Chosen. For was it not His blood that flowed in their veins?

Even without his armour, he could go on for months without food if he did not exert himself too much. He would need no water unless heavy combat drove him to sweating, something that very rarely occured, for Astartes tissue was much tougher than that of mortal creatures, able to withstand heat that would have left a natural life form's proteins boiled.

So did Aramus keep walking towards the city, uncaring about the passage of time. As long as he did not need to extert himself, his armour could keep him alive for months. It could power a small town, so the life support systems took almost no power to use. The problem with that was, that his Power Sword, Storm Shield, Iron Halo as well as the fiber bundles would very quickly deplete the reserves of his power pack.

He was still faster than a human even in his debilitated state, but if he ran into Genestealers, Nobs, or Emperor forbid a Chaos Space Marine, than he had only a ten minutes left to fight. He could use only the fiber bundles, thus increasing his combat limit to a few hours, but than his armour could very easily get damaged, and his weapon would have problems with slicing through anything heavier than carapace armour.

Aramus dismissed these thoughts. They were unworthy of an Astartes. He would face whatever horrors awaited him, and he would crush them, even if he had to do it with the encumbering husk of a totally depleted armour around himself. He was the Savior of Aurelia.

After half an hour of walking and only a few kilometers from the city, the towering Marine froze instantly. His autosenses were picking up something that sounded like speech. Human like speech.  
He started walking very slowly towards the source of the noise, keeping to the shadows and doing his best not to make any noise.

* * *

Cyana had always envisioned being a revolutionary would be glorious, a noble stand against the evil of the humans and their tyrannical ways. She ruefully reminded herself that people often found real life much different than their expectations.  
Lugging stolen Dust and munitions across the Forever Fall forest to the hidden truck with two dozen other Faunus was anything but glorious and noble. She know she was fighting the good fight against oppression, but it still felt like being a petty robber. Those well laden knapsacks were also quite heavy, even with her Aura lending her strength beyond what she could squeeze out of her tiring muscles.

"Ugh, are we there yet?" She asked as she stopped to take a gulp of stale water from her canteen and rearrange her White Fang mask after it had slipped from her sweat-slicken features.

"Put your energy into carrying our prize back to the truck, sister. The Leader's gratitude will be our reward. Hurry up comrades! We don't want any damn huntsman coming after us!"  
Was the reassuring reply from her cell leader, Umber, who was a quite large ram Faunus with a combat chainsaw and huge curling horns coming from his brow. He also towered over Cyana in a way that didn't make her feel all that secure, despite the rifle hanging from a strap on her chest.

She curled her fists until her sharp talons dig into the palms of her hands and sighed. She started moving again and lamented the fact that humans made this necessary. If only they were not so evil, she could be just a nineteen years old girl with vivid neon blue hair and a life ahead of herself. But no, she was not human, so most humans wouldn't even employ her. Even if they would, there would be ten like her who would go hungry.

"Damned humans. Bastards." She muttered under her breath and hoped the Grimm would at least be busy somewhere else this night.

* * *

Aramus was silent as a Scout, creeping ever closer to the origin of the noise as much as a Space Wolf would have tracked the scent. Soon enough he could may as well do that, for there was the stink of human sweat in the air, but it somehow tasted fouler than usual. He quickly checked his weapons.

The Blade of the Unrelenting was unpowered in his right hand, gripped tightly. While it had its own power cell, that was nearing depletion as well.  
The Combi-Plasma Bolter, Righteous Judgement, was mag-locked to his right thigh.  
He had around 180 bolts, spread in three body magazines, including the one underside the gun. He had two plasma flasks, but he was loathe to waist those, for if he could get out of his armour, he could use the hydrogen fuel for his power plant in the last case emergency.  
The Light of Mars was held in his left hand, hidden behind the Shield of Faith. It was a gift from Magos Fausitinus, a Magos famed for his victory above the Necrons. It was a Volkite Serpenta, a powerful archaotech pistol that fired crimson, deflagrating heat rays. It only needed power, but that it required in quite the amount. Its internal power supply had one shot left before it needed recharging.

"We are almost there! Leg it comrades, before the humans or grims send someone after us. With all this dust ammunition, our revolution will grow stronger!" Came a booming voice, to be answered by another male. "I signed up to give those bigoted humans a well deserved ass kicking, not to rub dust stores!" The first voiced replied with notable annoyance. "Do not falter brother! A minute and the truck will be in sight!"

His eyes narrowed behind his Errant Helmet. Humans don't talk that way about humans. Aliens do not spead Gothic. The scent of sweat was foul. There is only one answer to this riddle. Mutants, more precisely mutant insurrectionists. Though why would anybody bother to store dust in a shop was beyond him. Perhaps it was a, how did mortals call it, a slang term for some form of narcotic. Or it could be gold dust.

"My eyes are the eyes of the Emperor, for I am the sword of Vidya." He intoned.

Terrorsight, he thought, and the green lenses on his helm changed to a brighter, vivid red. He saw through the forest, through the bushes, and through the mutants. Aberrant bone growths showed under the all piercing gaze of his helmet, alongside horns, claws, and even tails. An abhorrent catalogue of impure genetics raised his wrath. They had some type of autorifle on their backs, and were carrying the stolen goods in chests and overstuffed backs.

His lips drew up into a predatory smile and started stalking faster. He needed to catch them before they reached the truck.

* * *

Cyana's semblance was nothing fancy. She couldn't fire green beams out of her swords or turn into stone as some Huntsman were rumored to be able to. She could just sense danger a few seconds before it happened.  
It was good enough however to have saved her hide many, many times over. Just as the White Fang team reached the parked truck and the two old bikes that were to be their escorts, she felt that it would not be that easy.

Thus when she heard the rustling and heavy footsteps, she hurled the loot down to the ground at once. "Look out, its Grimm!" She screamed, raising her rifle to her eyes and pointing it towards the red bushes.  
Two blazing crimson eyes burst into the dark forest clearing, mounted on something huge and wide. "Ursa! Shoot, shoot!" The freedom fighters started shooting at the charging figure, when it did something that no Grimm ever did.

It spoke. Speaking was not an adequate term, however. It roared, thundered in a deep metallic voice. " **DEATH TO THE MUTANT!** "  
Than its charge sped up, and a vivid red beam struck Umber from one of its limbs... was it shooting out of a shield, or was that a large paw? Umber ceased to exist, turned into an exploding cloud of ash that burned the skin of his nearby comrades black. Faster than a charging Boarbatusk, it was amongst them. Faunus were cleaved in half or caved in by an oversize shield. Chests burst under kicks that came faster than she could see it. In two seconds, half of her team was dead.

Dread froze Cyana to the spot. Her body locked up in terror, and she only avoided voiding her bowels because she had been starving for days. Her mind simply refused to accept that something that large could move that fast. Large and strong was one thing, but it was not natural for it to be fast as a striking snake. She was seeing the impossible, and the utter wrongness of it froze her mind into lockdown.

" **Tremble, and be broken, filth!** " It paused to roar again, the cheap dust rounds doing little againsts its armour even when someone managed to actually hit it.  
Cyana had two options. Try to get one of the expensive dust rounds from one of the many identical chests, or flee. Now everybody was screaming and running for their lives, with the humanoid giant chasing after them like a tiger playing with mice.

Three things happened as a mess of pulverised organs hit her face. Cyana's mouth became full of vomit and she found out that the expression 'pissing your fucking pants in terror' was very real, and that she needed to get to a bike in the next ten seconds.

* * *

" **Flee, for I am Death!** " He roared with all three of his lungs, his helmet's systems amplifying it further. A Noise marine could kill with a shriek, but he could still rupture eardrums.

The mutants were fleeing him like scattered hares before a Thunderwolf, and he tore into them with boot, blade and shield. A cat eared man's head and the tree behind him was parted by a thrust of his shield, another was cleaven from head to groin in the blink of an eye. Another he simply kicked in the groin, his boot embedding into the woman's midriff. A human looking mutant with the most unseemly blue hair receiving a faceful of meshed intestines, excreta and spine fragments.

He bounded after them one by one, all his troubles forgotten. The foul stench of ruptured mutant organs was abominable, but it signified holy duty.  
He caved in a skull with the handle of his sword, the proud Aquila pommel covered in red blood. These mutants were not as hardy as most of the hive-gutter scum he killed in his centuries long life, but they proved oddly resilient upon first contact.

It was as if their bodies resisted his strength for a split second, and then gave up like a conversion field that has been overwhelmed. Most odd, he mused as he sheated his sword. This work was not worthy of a blade blessed by the Great Father himself.

His armoured fingers closed after one of the fleeing mutant's head, and he squeezed. There was that minute resistance, and than the head came apart in his gauntlet. Skull fractured, antlers crumpled into shards.

Just when he was thinking about taking his time with this recidivist lot, he heard the noise of a small engine. A guardsmen would have designated the cyan haired mutant as "Pukeface" or any other juvenile term. To the Astartes, she was Target Priority Primus. Wishing not to waste precious ammunition on mutants, he snatched up a nearby shortsword from a torn off mutant hand, and threw.

* * *

Covered in blood and filth, Cyana ran to the bike and started it with trembling fingers. Only adrenaline kept her from collapsing into a sobbing mess. _Come on come on just a little bit of more time._ Usually she would feel shame at abandoning her brothers and sisters. Now she only felt dread like she never felt before. _I don't want to die here..._ the bike's engine ignited, and she sped off on the dirt road leading away from the clearing.

Two seconds into her flight, she sensed death coming and veered to the right. She felt horrible, sharp pain explode in her side as something long and sharp hurtled by, tearing a long gash into her side. She put the acceleration to the maximum, and only her Aura kept her from fainting and crashing the bike.

 _She wanted to live. Damn the world, she wanted only to live!_ She looked into the mirror to see that nobody was moving beside the giant, what was running after her with inhuman speed. It was so dark that she could not make out much of it, but a human could have not even seen its edges, only its eyes. The glowing, baleful red eyes. Perhaps it was a Grimm after all?

She tried to drive the bike faster, but the thing was gaining on her. She felt its footsteps thundering in her ears. _She didn't want to die with her face covered in gore and shit! This was not a heroic freedom fighter's end! This couldn't be it!_

Just as she was sure that the giant shadow behind her would leap and tear her apart, she heard a long, evil howl, and the giant paused. _I'm happy to hear fucking Grimm?_ She tried to control her shaking and did her best to reach Vale. She didn't care if she got caught. She needed alcohol, she needed a bath, and she needed a doctor before she bled out.

Let the Grimm try to be heroic freedom fighters. She was clocking out for today.

* * *

The mutant woman was almost within his reach when his armour alerted him to incoming contacts. He looked around and could see giant lupine forms running towards him with impressive speed. They appared mutated as well, but even the Terrorsight of his helmet was having trouble penetrating their skin. That was unusual.

He slowed down and drew The Blade of the Unrelenting again, switching back to Preysight. Even for Astartes, using Terrorsight for too long was taxing on the brain.  
The mutant woman's bike was getting away, he knew. Fifty meters. He could barely hear her panicked heartbeat any more. A hundred meters. He could still hear her panting breath. Than she was gone, and he had bigger, and hopefully better foes to slay.


	3. From Dust till Dawn

The first of the black, wolf like creature died impaled on his blade. The second lost its head, and the third was bisected. The fourth he cleaved from shoulder to pelvis. The fifth he bashed in the head with his shield.

The creature however refused to die. Its jaw broken, it lunged at him. His activated Storm Shield came up and he felt a heavy impact against his shield arm. He bashed forward one more time, and the disruptor field sparked as the animal's head finally caved in.

It should have done so in the first blow. Something was very wrong here. It had been a second since he impaled the first beast, but dozens more were lunging at him.

He slashed and kicked left and right, but his kicks did little to deter the strange, black lupines. By all rights, they should have crumpled, bones broken. Anything less than an Ork nob or Tyranid warrior or Ogryn could not survive such a kick. But these animals shrugged of as if it was made by a human. A Catachan could kill with a force of one kilo-Newton. An Astartes was hundreds of times stronger. The wolf-thing should have been at least sent flying.

But it was trying to rip his face off. He quickly fed it the edge of his holy blade. Ten more long seconds passed, and he was aware that the corpses were starting to decay before his very autosenses. They were turning into black smoke, and in his nostrils he smelled, however faintly, the sweet-rotten stench of the Warp.

These were not mere mutated wolves. The Warp was in them, and it was in them deep. " **Abominations! Cleanse, Purge, Kill!** "

By the time he was victorious, his armour's reserves were running at two percent. His shield drained on his power reserves, for warp-infused claws were well known to rend through even Terminator armour, if one got careless.

He quickly stepped over the dissipating corpses. These things were durable beyond the laws of nature. He suddenly realised that if not for the blessed blade, he may not have triumphed without grievous, maybe crippling injury. It was a sobering thought.

Aramus quickly made his way to the clearing and started professionally looting the corpses, gathering everything that looked useful. Devices that looked like communicators. Small, regularly manufactured items that looked like coloured tarot cards, but must be money.

He loaded everything onto the truck and tried to squeeze into the cockpit of the rickety vehicle, but without success. With a heavy sigh, Aramus started pushing the truck.

* * *

Cyana was bleeding out. She knew it even as she sped towards Vale City. It took all her remaining strength to just keep the bike from carthweeling into a tree.

She thought about her parents in the slums of Menagerie, she thought about never seeing them again. She did not even want to think on the monster. She did not knew what it was. _A new type of Grimm? A secret weapon by Atlas?_ Who knew. She did not want to know.

It took her five minutes to speed into the city, leaving the policemen, or as she called them, _donut pigs_ , gaping after the speeding bike. She stopped near one of the shadier alleyways of the Commercial district. She had to get to the hospital, even if the White Fang outfit meant her arrest. But she collapsed before she could hatch any plan.

* * *

The first thing Blake Belladonna heard was a pained gasp for air. Quick as a cat, she was standing beside the wounded Faunus girl in less than a minute. She was barely an adult, with lightly tanned skin and cyan blue hair that must have been once beautiful. Now she was covered in blood and filth, her clothes torn, and a gaping wound in her left side.

She knew something was wrong instantly. Grimm would have finished her off. A Huntress or a policeman would not have left her to die like this, even if some cops were rotten scumbags. "Hey! Its okey. I'll get you some help." Blake took out her scroll and quickly sent off a message, before tearing a strip off her clothes to at least stem the flow of blood. The girl muttered deliriously about some monster... _was that a chunk of liver stuck in her hair?!_

* * *

 _Warp damn it, I am a Space Marine, not a loader servitor_. Pushing the truck was not hard, even without the fiber bundles, but it was definately undignified. _Pushing a mighty tank like a Baneblade or a Predator was more fitting for a Hero of the Imperium._ Or at least so Aramus fumed.

Three kilometers from the city he noticed an abandoned house on a nearby hill, and quickly pushed the truck up to the half collapsed edifice. It was an extremely primitive dwelling that would have been an insult to the dignity of even the lowest of Chapter Serfs, but it had a large cellar that opened to an outdoors trapdoor.

He quickly carried all the loot he captured from the insurgents into the basement. He looked over the capture, noting the company logo 'Dustco, a partner to the Schnee Dust Company' on its side. The crates did not look Imperial, and were full of all manner of odd vials and, most important of all, ammunition of every colour and size. _Thanked be the Holy Emperor_ , he thought.

Quickly catalogueing his find, he took stock of the situation.  
First, no Imperial insignias. No Vox network. Non standard vehicle patterns. The absence of one was not proof, but all three details pointed to the fact that this was unlikely to be an Imperial World.  
Second, the mutants could rob a shop in the city. This meant mutants were not shot on sight. This in turn suggested that his size would not elicit too much attention, at least not as much as his holy warplate. A non imperial city full of anti tank guns was not a welcome prospect, even for one such as hims. One lascannon was not a problem. A hundred was almost certain death, they would hit him enough by sheer luck.

But if they were not Imperial, perhaps they would not recognise him without the signature armour for what he was. Bile rose in his throat and his fists clenched. If pressed, he could pass as a mutant. The whole thought was unholy, but as Cyrus said, _Duty comes before everything else._ No matter how distasteful said duty be.

After carefully observing the surrounding for any of the wolf demons or more mutants, he became convinced that the area was for the moment, safe. First he pushed the now empty truck into the nearby barn. He found that it had no fuel as he understood it, nor any energy cells or plasma reactors. The smell of the open fuel tank told him that it was the same colourful dust as the bullets and vial's contents were made of.

Perhaps it was some sort of explosive. Perhaps there was a way to turn it into a power source. Perhaps he did not need to become a Lamenter, after all.  
After hiding the truck, he took inventory of the house. It was moldy, dirty and covered in dust. It also had a small weapons rack with a few not too corroded swords and some clothes that he could make an outfit from. He quickly went to work, and after two hours, managed to cobble together a vest, some baggy pants and a robe. Almost all material was garish enough to offend even a Craftworld Eldar, but after a long search he found enough blank grey linen to work with.

The last part of his plan was pushing a ten ton boulder next to the house. He went down into the basement with the makeshift outfit and slowly, revently took off his armour and weapons. For half an hour he prayed to the Emperor and Omnissiah, entreating them to watch over his wargear until his return.  
He quickly dressed and armed himself with an aged shortsword, which in truce was most likely a two handed claymour of fine make, since it was clearly not rusting yet. He also picked up one of the containers that held the strange vials and pocketed all the coin cards. Last but not least, he took up one of the fancy looking autoguns the mutants had and some ammunition for it.

Ready for whatever heresy would confront him, or so he thought, Aramus climbed out of the cellar and pushed the boulder on top of the trapdoor. He planned to be back in a few hours, which was not enough time for any human to actually move the thing, mutant or no. But before going to the city, he had one last thing to do. Aramus knelt down, one hand on the hilt of his blade, the other in front of his face.

 _Without Dark, there can be no Light,_  
 _We have purpose._  
 _Without Lie, there can be no Truth,_  
 _We have purpose._  
 _Without War, there can be no Victory,_  
 _We have purpose._  
 _Without Death, there can be no Sacrifice,_  
 _We have purpose._  
 _Without Faith there can be no Honour,_  
 _We have purpose._  
 _Without Loyalty there can be no Chapter,_  
 _We have purpose._  
 _Without the Emperor, there is nothing,_  
 _And we would have no purpose._

He solemnly said his prayer, kneeling before Him on Earth. He bowed his head forward and stood up, before taking off in a light jog towards the city.

* * *

Blake had left the White Fang and had no love left for Adam Taurus, but she was not one to let a girl bleed out. She still knew Faunus who would help a sister in need. At least she did manage to stop the bleeding, but her worry only grew as the nameless girl lost consciousness.

A rusty and rather dubious looking van pulled into the alley, and a large Faunus with a pig tail stepped out. "What did that to her?" Was his first sentence, his manners forgotten at the sight of the torn wound. "No idea. Do you got a spare set of clothes?" Asked Blake, glad that it was Tangerine Truffle who managed to come.  
The man was not a fighter unless one considered pie a mortal enemy, but he was as good hearted as a person can be.  
 _Propably why he had left the White Fang long before me,_ thought Blake. "We'll get her into something less... illegal while we drive her to the hospital. Young Faunus girl, found wounded and without clothes. Nobody will ask questions. You go get back to Beacon, Miss Belladonna. It is way past curfew."

Blake let a relieved smile show on her face, before waving goodbye to her friend. "Keep in touch, big guy!" It was time to get back to the Academy.

* * *

Two guards looked at him as he moved to the entrance of the walled city, but decided against bothering as they glared at his rather unprepossessing robes. But they made no move to interrogate him, so he continued confidently forward.

The small town was lightly defended with a wall as tall as a larger Knight, and not much else. The people, mutant or human, looked even more garish than he expected. Even their hair carried absurd amounts of colour, whenever by mutation or abuse of paint, he knew not.

But they did not bother him, most likely because even the tallest man came only up to his chest. He did not see any signs with the 'Dustco' crest on it, so in order to advance his plan, he had to ask the locals. He approached a middle aged man with the most disturbing pink hair, and nodded his head at the rather frightened looking fellow.

"Pray tell me citizen, which way should I head to find the fine craftman of this Dustco establishment? I wish to return his lost property to him." The man certainly looked at him oddly, before deciding that the request seemed harmless.  
"Just go to Unity Plaza... you aren't from around here, are you? All right. You see that big building? That is the Vale Royal hospital. The plaza is a hundred meters to the north of it."

"I thank you for your cooperation." He replied, which only elicited another strange look. The locals not only looked strange, but acted strange. Perhaps this world was never part of the Imperium to begin with. The habitats looked primitive, the vehicles looked fragile, and there was not even the slighest hint of Imperial symbols. Thank the Emperor, there weren't any Chaotic or known Xenos signs either.

As he neared the richer parts of the Commercial district, he had to rething the primitive part. The streetlamps were actually hololithic illusions. Such a frivolous use of ancient archeotech he had only ever seen in the Govermental palaces of the wealthiest of planets. Certainly not in a backwater like this.

He needed information, and he needed it badly. He prayed to the Emperor that the shopkeeper would be grateful enough to help him.

* * *

Braun Wellington was having the worst day of his life. His shop's security system alerted him to the robbery half past midnight. By the time the police and he arrived, there was nothing left but smashed windows.

The shop had been in his family's keeping for five generations. Yesterday he was planning on buying a bike to her sister's wedding, but now he will not be able to buy her and her girlfriend anything more than a few flowers. Cheap flowers at that. He was ruined. He sat down on the pavement and put his head in his hands.

How will they pay the bills? How will his wife get the new pair of glasses she needed after braking the current one? How will their son get a present for his birthday in two weeks?

His wife and his son joined him an hour later. Three devastated faces looked at the detectives snooping around the scene. The only thing holding back the tears was the presence of his son.

Braun suddenly heard his wife gasp and the detectives turn as a shadow fell over them.

* * *

"I am looking for the shopkeeper of Dustco." Aramus said instead of a greeting, as he surveyed the scene. The strangely clad officials must be the local law enforcement. Astartes were masters in all forms of warfare, but not in people skills. Yet even he could guess that the weepingchild, woman and almost crying man must be the shop's owner and his family, or the servants of the shopkeeper.

"I'm Wellington... Braun Wellington... wait, is that one of my lockers?" The man looked up at him in surprise, and he nodded. "I have found it in the forest. I take it this is yours."

The slightly balding, brown haired man nodded, before getting up and promptly doing the unthinkable. He was hugging him! A Lord amongst Angels!  
"Oh thank you! Thank you. You saved my shop, you saved my family!" The man could no longer hold back, and started to tear up like a stricken child.

After a few seconds, the man managed to got a hold of himself and removed himself from a mortified Aramus. "Do not do that again. Please."  
"I'm sorry, but with that I can save my shop. It will not be easy but we will manage, thank the heavens."

"Your goods I give back to you freely. But pray tell, when the sun is up, you will answer a few questions for me, will you not? I am a long way from home." The little man nodded eagerly, before going over the stolen casket much to the lawmen's dismay. "Hey, watch out for the fingerprints!"

One of the local law enforcement officers were approaching him, but he detected no hostility, beside the usual surprise at his outfit. "Good evening. I'm Detective Plumbury of the VPD. I would like to request any information you have on the crime."

Luckily for the Emperor's Chosen, he may have been horrible with people skills, but he could think fast. Very fast.  
"I am Aramus, and I am a... hunter. I was walking the forest when I found this chest. There were corpses being eaten by black beasts, and they were most fierce. The corpses wore masks and had a white and black outfit. I have returned to the shopkeeper what I could." He replied, which was not a complete lie. Well not all of it.

"Dust damned White Fang again. Well at least the Grimm saved animal control some trouble. You did take care of the Grimm, didn't you, Huntsman?" Asked the detective, though some of his fellow lawman seemed to be frowning. Aramus could not have known that the frowns were directed at the man's words, and not him.

"The foul creatues will cause no trouble. Neither will the ... Grimm." He replied, quite sure that the Grimm were meant to be the daemonic wolf creatures. At least the locals were not in leage with them, nor the mutants. _Thank the Unknown Primarch for small mercies._

"Hah, at least not all you Huntsman are all sniffing your own farts about equality and all that bullshit. See guys this is a proper fella. He took care of two problems at once!" He laughed, and Aramus caught more than one of his co-workers muttering under their breaths. He had no idea what a 'bigot' was, but he was pretty sure about what 'asshole' meant. He decided to ignore it. This was none of his business.

"I most assuredly do not partake in scenting flatulence or manure." He replied, which caused another round of stares and a few chuckles. "But I should not cause you to tarry in your honourable task, Detective. Our duty is to protect Humanity."

He nodded his farewell, and moved out to what looked like a clothing store. He did realise he was sticking out like an ork on a Forge World. "Now I would take him over three of you pussies any day." He heard faintly the voice of Plumbury. "I'll take it you bane of donuts and gin! He can't be a bigger racist than you, Pukebury, and unlike you that guy will not faint after running for ten feet!"

Aramus had absolutely no idea what the local lawman were talking about, and he had a feeling he was better off that way. To his chagrin he found out that the shopkeepers for all clothing stores were soundly asleep at home, and the all night convenient store had no tailor to make something for him. Fuming at the weakness of mortals, he decided to scout the district.

As he was walking he saw a bunch of mutants. Deciding that he didn't need their stench in his nostril he quickly crossed over the street, when a gaggle of drunken teenagers almost crashed a car into him. He leapt aside only to crash into a a vivid yellow motorbike, which fared worse than he did, its expensive frame now thoroughly dented. He thought about going after them and tearing their spines out, but he had enough of Plumbury for the night.

* * *

 _Stealing that mug of beer may have been a bad idea_ , Yang thought, as she got out of the disco. She was no Uncle Qrow, but that seemed like a great idea with all the dancing. Happily humming to herself, the blissfully unaware girl stepped out only to see her beloved Bumblebee all banged up with a huge man picking himself up and dusting off his atrocius grey robes.

"What the fuck are you doing you moron?!" She screamed, leaping to her poor wounded baby and inspecting the damage. The priced bike was quite dented. "You are going to pay for that you jackass!"

The man got up to his full height. _Fuck, he is huge_ , came to her mind. The guy must have been twice the size of Ruby, and in his late twenties or early thirties, as far as she could see under his grey hood. He was looking at her with a comically surprised expression. "I apologize for the damage done to your vehicle. However I do not have the spare funds to pay for repairs."

He also talked like a pompous jackass. _His funds are too good for Bumblebee? Who did he think he was?_ Yang was quite furious. "Listen up you oaf, you are going to pay up or I'm going to punch it out of you!" It may have been the beer talking, as Yang had last drank any half a year before. Despite what the rumors said, she barely ever drunk alcohol.

The beefcake of a man gave a short, mocking snort at that. Propably not the wisest thing to do with a furious Yang. Enough was enough, and she gve the guy a shove. "You don't just go around wrecking other's stuff and than leaving it like an Ursa leaves its shit in the woods, you asswipe!" It felt like punching concrete. The man seemed to be made out of iron, barely pushed back by a shove that would have sent most people bowling over.

"Do not force me to kill you, foolish child." The man's voice was anything but friendly, and she suddenly found her feet dangling in the air. One moment she was on the ground, the other she was dangling with a vice like grip around her throat.  
 _You did it now Yang, you ran into an oversized psycho without Ember Celica._ "Killing a drunk girl, whoa that is real heroic of you, big guy. Like super heroic. So do it!"

The man brought her closer to his face. Dull brown eyes bored into violet. "You are as brave as you are foolish, juvenile. Now leave me be. I did not intend to break your vehicle." She was not too proud to admit that she was glad when she was dropped to the pavement.

"Hey, look, chill out dude. I'm kinda drunk and you just ruined my baby!" She fussed over the bike before letting out a loud curse that she would never have dared to utter in the presence of Ruby. She turned to him and took a good look. The man was not simply well built. He was a giant of heroic proportions, with the face of a warrior king. A handsome warrior king. Standing there in rags as if he was a prince in shining armour.

"My body temperature does not require cooling. It is well within the optimal range." Yang facepalmed at that. The fog of the beer parted long enough for her to realise how outlandish the man was. Did she just assault some overgrown tourist? "You are not from around here, are you?"

"I am not. I live... far away. I need what funds I have to get back to my warriors." _Now I feel like an ass. This guy is clueless._ She actually felt bad about the whole deal. That beer was definately a mistake, but the adrenaline surge of the previous alteraction had cleared her mind considerably. "Look dude, I'm sorry okey? I just... love that bike."

For a moment the large man paused. "I would be most incensed if someone damaged my wargear, even if by accident. I will spare your life, and be glad, for few have ever lived after laying a hand upon me."

 _Wow, that is pompous. He must be related to the Schnees._ "I'm not a child you know! I'm seventeen!" She said with drunken gravitas. To her surprise, the man chuckled, but the laugh was not mocking this time. Being called a child by a relatively young man did bother her a lot, but she was sober enough now not to raise the issue. "Look, I'll buy you a drink okay?" She ventured. Yang was a good person, if one got through the rage.

"I do not require sustenance for approximately two standards weeks." Came the reply. The guy was really weird. _Perhaps his Semblance was going without food? He should totally teach Ruby that trick. All those cookies don't grow on trees and they aren't exactly cheap_ , she mused. Ruby had picked up a taste for more and more expensive gourmet cookies lately.

"Now that we established that I absolutely suck at making first impressions, what's your name? I'm Yang, and I will be a Huntress!" Adrenaline was a wonderfully efficient way of getting sober fast, and now she realised that she had been quite out of control. The man looked at her for seconds, coming to a decision. "Ca.. Aramus." The reply was hesitant.

"That doesn't sound like a color. What language is it in?" The man seemed to come to a decision. "High Gothic, and why should it be related to colours?"

 _Now this was interesting,_ she thought. "You really aren't from around here, Ca Aramus. I owe you one for putting up with my rages, so come and lets get you something that's not a rag." The man was looking at her oddly, clearly not understanding. _Just what tiny village did he came from? This will be interesting._

* * *

Striking a holy warrior of the Adeptus was a death sentence unless the offender was a very influential Magos or Inquisitor. But Aramus had the feeling that Plumbury would not agree with him, and he did not wish to become the target of a city wide manhunt. _What would Scout Sergeant Cyrus do?_

"I will accept your offer for aiding me. Thus will you redeemer yourself." He was secretly happy Avitus could not see him. The veteran Devastator would have given him a lecture or two, no matter the chain of command.

The young blonde woman was dressed in a short and quite revealing outfit. Like the rest of the citizen's outfits, it was garish in the extreme.  
Her bust size would have impressed any Guardsmen, but Aramus was not human, at least not any more. Bust sizes did not sieze control of his brain as they would with a regular man's.  
But as a man who made sure his hair was suitable well groomed, he could appreciate the long, flowing golden locks of the scantily clad blonde.

"Lets go to to the mall." She started to walk down the street, and Aramus looked at the dented bike. "What about your mount, Huntress Yang?" he inquired, and the girl could not hide a painful expression from showing on her face. "I'll gotta get Bumblebee tomorrow. If I get caught driving drunk and Dad finds out..."

Aramus simply leant down and picked up the bike. It weighted a little more than himself, and he lifted it without effort, holding the machine before his chest. "I can not spare you funding, but I can carry your mount to safety, Huntress Yang."

* * *

"Whoa man!" Yang could lift Bumblebee, but only when she was using her Semblance. The man had lifted it as if it was a gift basket, and seemed totally at ease holding three hundred kilograms upright. He had to be using his Aura, a powerful one at that. He looked at her, confused.

"Okey, follow me." She lead the strange person to the nearest mall. "So, where are you from?" His reply was less than helpful. "From far away, Huntress Yang."

"Why are you here?" She tried again, curiosity getting the better of her. "By accident, Huntress Yang." Was the equally useless reply.

"Can you keep up? My baby is quite heavy." She still wasn't sure how long he could carry the bike, and she did not want it to get dropped. "It weights but little." Came the reply.

The walk was spent in a rather awkward silence afterwards. Yang felt at once frustrated at his cryptic nature and reminded of how her father acted after the loss of his second wife. Some people just carried the weight of the world on their shoulders.

* * *

It was unsure who was more horrified, Aramus or the middle aged woman who had the unfortunate duty of pulling the midnight shift.

The clothes were all horrible, like something a Noise Marine have vomited together with a bunch of drunken Orks and eldar Harlequins. "What about this one?" Asked the blonde woman, pointing to something that made him gag. "Absolutely not, Huntress Yang!"

Shopping, Aramus found out, was as boring as it was time consuming, but finally he managed to get something muted enough for him to wear. Taking his findings, he squeezed himself into the changing room.

* * *

How could one not like shopping, Yang mused. Her new friend had finally settled for a rather drab pair of dark red pants and a bone white shirt, as well as two sandals.  
'Smokey's XXXL' was apparently a brand made for the especially large Faunus gentlemen like those who shared bear traits. Shoes could not be helped, but a pair of sandals were still better than the legs he had wrapped around his feet before.

She had her first good look of Aramus when he stepped out into the bright light of the shop and she quickly came to the realisation that he was much bigger than the robes suggested.

The pants reached to his knees and the shirt left his forearms bare, which were thicker than a grown man's thighs. His face was truly handsome, in the manner of a noble lord's countenance with an aquilan nose, heavy brows and wide jaws. A thin scar ran under his left eye and there was what appared nothing less than a bullet lodged above his right eye.

Clad now in clean and proper clothing, he radiated an aura of noble lethality. He was a warrior prime, his back straight and his bearing utterly heroic. Yang was not ashamed to stare and nod to herself in appreciation. She will have to spar with such a magnificent specimen.

As the towering warrior turned to pay the timid cashier, she dropped one of the Lien coins. Fast as a viper, he caught it mid flight and flipped it so that it laned in her palm with the numeral facing upwards. _Now that is coordination_ , she thought, and an idea came to her mind.

"Say Aramus, do you know how to roll a dice? I know a way to get us some more ... funding."

* * *

Ruby was trying unsuccessfully to get Weiss to play some video games with her. With Blake out to do Blake things and Yang having snuck out past curfew to party, Ruby first tried to combat her boredom with cookies, but unfortunately the supply was not infinite.

"Oh come on Weiss it will be fun! It will be so much fun, I'll let you win once!" She looked at her with bright silver eyes. The Heiress huffed cutely and shook her head. "I'm busy, you dolt! Besides video games are for young children."

Having been denied too long, Ruby decided to snatch her partner's Scroll. "Give that back you absolute pest!" Weiss get up from her bed and stomped her feet. She looked over the news feed while dodging the Heiress's attempts to recover her stolen property.

"Oooh hero Hunstman saves shop!" Ruby was now interested in the Scroll as well, just when Weiss managed to grab it from her. "Come on Ice Queen let me see too!"

"If you steal it again I am going to freeze you, you double dolt." Weiss huffed to herself, before letting Ruby close. The video showed an enormously large Huntsman returning stolen goods to save a poor shopkeeper.  
Ruby knew that not all Hunters would have returned the goods. Some Hunters were jerks, though Uncle Qrow used much less flattering words for them. _Plus the big guy only has rags and an old sword. He must be very brave to hunt without a nice Scythe gun_ , she thought.

Ruby's first expression was somewhat soured as the man called the White Fang mutants, now that was not a nice word to say to a Faunus. Not all commenters shared her view though as she read through them. Most of them did though. "That was a bit rude with the mutant comment."

CartheWinner: 'Yeah we need more cops like Plumbury, those animals are too good for a Grimm's belly!'  
CocoAwesome: 'Fuck you Cardin! If I see you around Scarlet one more time I'm breaking your teeth in.'  
TheCatBurgler: 'A Faunus woman was left dying in an alley because of bigots like Plumbury. How is he still on the VPD?'

* * *

Weiss scowled at Ruby. "They aren't all Blake you know. A lot of humans have valid reasons to dislike the White Fang." Something have stuck her about the bearing of the man. He carried himself like Winter, a noble warrior who demanded absolutely obidience and was used to receiving it.

Not even the rags could hide that, and there was also the size. While the peoples of Remnant were a very diverse lot, this one was larger than usual by far. His manners were more suited to an ancient noble knight from a fairy tale than anyone wearing ragged robes. Weiss had an eye for seeing through people's pretensions and see to their core, and this man was no commoner.

* * *

The night Aramus arrived to Vale went down in the history of the underworld as the 'Big Heist Night' after Yang directed her new friend in the fine arts of gambling with dice. Any other couple of gamblers would have been thrown out or knifed a dozen times over, but the name Yang was well known in the seedy bars, and the name Qrow was not a welcome one either. Coupled with the stature of her friend, even the boldest of mob bosses decided to cut their losses.

They were swimming in Liens by the time dawn broke above Vale and Aramus brought her bike to the Academy. "All right big guy. Here is half of it." She handed Aramus enough Lien to last most people for months. Bumblebee was not only getting fixed, but her baby will be getting a tune up as well.

"I trust this will cover your damaged mount, Huntress Yang?" Asked the large warrior, smoke coiling around his face. Yang got him a pair of sunglasses and he got himself some cigars as well, the end result being something that the young woman found quite cool. It had been definately worth it to persuade him to wear the black-lensed glasses, no matter how much he complained that they reduced his colour perception.

"Oh hell yeah it will." Yang was quite happy. She has made a fortune and found a mysterious warrior guy as well. "My debt to you is paid. Now I am needed elsewhere." Well, it was fun while it lasted, it was not like she could bring him to Beacon as a pet.

"I'm free for the weekend. I could introduce you to my friends." He seemed to pause for a moment in consideration. "Meet me at the Dustco store at noon, Huntress Yang."

* * *

Aramus decided that he had made the right choice in sparing the blonde woman. She seemed very friendly as well as rather brave, if foolish. He needed every asset he could use if he was to learn about his new surroundings.

The life of an Astartes was mostly glorious warfare, but sometimes it was more complicated. It was his lot to suffer whatever tribulations the Emperor has placed ahead of him. After the girl dissapeared into her schola building, he left to check on his wargear.

* * *

Blake left the hospital near dawn. Truffle had told her that the girl was delirious by the time they got her to the emergency ward, muttering about monsters. He managed to get a name out of the mystery woman at least.

Cyana. Another victim driven into the arms of Taurus by the intolerance and hatred of humans. But hatred only ever lead to more hatred.

The doctors have assured her that their charge would live, but the injury was quite serious. She had lost her left kidney and parts of her intestines were damaged. It was a miracle that she managed to survive until they got her on the operating table.

It could take weeks for her to regain full consciousness, something that troubled Blake. She needed to know what did this to her. Maybe it was a Grimm, but maybe it was not. Some humans were not above murder, and Adam was quite capable of killing his own soldiers to make an example as well, something that made her ashamed of her past life even more.

She walked towards Beacon, her thoughts troubled.


	4. Unmasking

Astartes were incapable of terror as mortal humans were, but they could still worry. Aramus was quite worried about his wargear as he hurried towards the abandoned house near the city gates.

His delay with the Huntress Yang had resulted in aquiring what the young woman considered a small fortune, but still it was a delay.  
He would need to know more about this planet, and what they knew about the galaxy at large. Sparing her life was the pragmatic decision to make. Scout Sergeant Cyrus would approve, if he was here.

He worried about the 4th Company. Tarkus would lead them in his absence with skill and honour, but the Company was his responsibility still. He had to get back to his battle brothers as soon as possible, for they were his charges. It was his duty to the Emperor most high to lead them in battle and make sure their lives were spent for the most gain.

The rock slab was fortunately intact, with his blessed wargear hidden in the concealed cellar underneath. At first he wanted to use this Dust to recharge his armour the best he could, but with the funds he aquired he could just as well purchase a small hiding place in the city and gain access to the electric grid that it must have.

Perhaps the blonde girl did knew the local equivalent of an engineer. Imperial engineers were laymen under the Techpriest's total command who helped to keep the great vessels and machines of the Imperium running, but there was not a chance of finding even an Enginseer here. Heathen or not, this Yang would be an asset that fulfilled his wishes, should he be able to direct her course.

A Space Marine required as little as four hours of half-sleep a day, but a Blood Raven required none. Troubled by his predicament, he went into the house and began a repetitive patrol of looking out the ruined windows, his eyes easily penetrating the gloom. He looked out for trouble, and meditated on his next move.

* * *

Yang was grinning like a fool as she sneaked back into the dormitories. They had won enough Lien to last her for half a year and she has found this fascinating, hulking brute of a man who could throw dice so accurately as to always hit the desired number.

She quietly let herself in their small dormitory room and went straight to bed, happily hugging the small sack full of money. She was too tired to even note that Blake was still out for her nightly prowlings like a cat hunting mice.  
Soon she fell asleep, dreaming of all the upgrades she could put on her bike, which while impropable in the waking world, made total sense to her in her sleep.

* * *

The next morning Ruby awoke to find a very sleepy Yang clutching her Lien sack like a comical cartoon duck with a fondness for gold. The next thing she found out that Blake was still missing.

For an instance she was worried, but a quick check on her scroll revealed a message from her team mate. 'I will be back in the afternoon. Found someone who needed help.' Now calmer about the missing cat girl, Ruby decided to wake up Weiss by the most pleasant method she could think of.

So by putting a cookie in front of the white haired girl's nose. No better way to wake up in Ruby's book, never the less Weiss was less than pleased. "Good morning... you dolt." _How rude, that is no way to say good morning. Not everyone can appreciate a good cookie_ , Ruby thought, before stuffing her face with the inefficient Weiss-lure.

"Good morning Weiss! Blake is out helping someone and Yang got herself a big sack of cash. I think it is cash. Oh-boy-I-hope-it-is-cookies!" She may have been a bit too enthusiastic, as Yang muttered something that sounded like 'Leave me alone' before pushing her head and blonde mane under her pillow.

"Yaaaaang. Come on big sis wake up! What's up with the bag?" Finally Yang woke up with a loud yawn. "Hey there Rubes... oh, I don't know, just enough Lien to help me pay Dad's bills for like a year!"

Ruby's eyes grew wide as Yang showed the contents of the bag to her, something that even impressed Weiss. "That's more than my monthly allowance!" Which did cause the two sisters to look at her. It was a small fortune after all.

"How did you get all this money, Yang?" Ruby asked, hoping it was nothing too shady. "I almost punched a guy then found out that he is like super cool with a dice! He is so big and so mysterious, a bit clueless too."

"Oooooh tell me!" Ruby giggled at that. "Well I found him wandering around. He knocked Bumblebee about, but was like super proper about it. He maybe related to you Weiss." The young Heiress rolled her blue eyes.

"How did he look?" Asked the young girl, big silver eyes looking at her big sister. "Well he was super large, but handsome. He was like wearing rags until I got him something better. He was like a foreigner, and I felt bad for yelling at him. He was lost I'm sure."

"Wait a moment." Something clicked in Weiss's brain, and she brought out her Scroll to show Yang the video they have seen earlier.

"Oh, that's him! He is really handsome under that hood, but like super strange. He has a bullet stuck in his eyebrow!" Yang nodded, than made a face at the mutants comments. "I'll need to coach him a bit on that before he meets Blake!"

"He kind of sounds mean." Ruby mused. "He is like Weiss, I said. I don't think he meant to be an ass.. I mean a jerk. Its like he came from far, far away. He wanted me to meet him at noon at the Dust shop. Do you two wanna tag along?"

"A bullet in the eyebrow sounds like a good hunting tale!" Ruby nodded, while Weiss replied with a dignified shrug. "I need to see if he is truly as proper as you claim. If we do our homework quickly, we can go take a look at him."

* * *

Aramus receive quite the attention as he was pushing the truck towards the dust merchant's store, mostly from drivers who thought he was not fast enough. They all seemed to complain loudly and sometimes quite disrespectfully until he turned his eyes on them and looked.

Space marines had fewer emotions than a baseline human, but anger they were quite familiar with. So a dissaproving glare from a veteran Astartes was enough to send even the most uneducated and incensed driver on his or her way after a few seconds. There was a naked, brutal violence in that stare, a promise of utter destruction that chilled hearts and made curses fall quiet before they were even finished.

The truck was laden with the rest of the dust merchandise he salvaged as well as his wargear, hidden under a pile of rugs in a manner that would require him to ask for the forgiveness of its Machine Spirit before the day was over.

Imperial Plasma reactors used a warp-enhanced fusion reaction to provide great amount of power with minimal fuel costs, more fuel efficient than a basic fusion reactor by orders of magnitudes. But they still needed to keep some energy to maintain the fusion reaction, and his backpack was getting desperately close to the minimum treshold. The combined energy fields of a Storm Shield and Iron Halo could drain a reactor in a way that was impossible for the fiber bundle systems.

Not all Space Marines were in the habit of fully using their enhanced intellects, but he was a Blood Raven. Knowledge is Power, was the motto of the Chapter, and its members were far more learned in matters of Machine Spirits and other areas of science than most chapters, though they could not match the understanding of the Iron Hands or Salamanders in the regards of crafting their own wargear.

He still knew enough to keep most of his blessed wargear in good condition. Now that he had the funds to secure a small apartment and access to the electric grid, he was willing to gamble on the shopkeeper's character. He knew almost nothing about this Dust, but if this was what the locals had for ammunition, he would need help to make something that his Combi-Bolter could fire.

He turned the truck at the next stop, and saw his target in sight. His enhanced eyesight picked out the Huntress Yang, who had two of her companions with her. The young woman and her companions may be able to assist him, if he choose his actions wisely. Such subtletly grated against the Captain, for he was an Angel of Death to the core, an exemplar of his kind.

One of them was a woman with a lithe figure and a pose that even at this distance told Aramus of her noble upbringing, her head held high proudly and her body language projecting an air of confident command. The only flaw in her appearance was that her ice-white ponytail was slightly off center. She was obviously a person of some importance, though the lack of guards following her suggested that she either was a scion of a lesser noble house, or that rapier she carried was deadlier than it looked.

The other was slightly younger. In ancient Terra she would be considered a child, but in the Imperium she was a woman who would have been given a lasgun if necessary, but such ancient history was unknown to the Captain.  
Her outfit looked more Imperial than the rest, and if not for the shortness of the skirt and the lack of skulls, it could have stood its place in the wardrobe of any moderately wealthy Imperial servant.  
It was also matched in colour by the young woman's hair, a mixture of black and crimson that mirrored that of the armour hidden inside the cargo compartment of the truck. The hood on her head and her silver eyes reminded him of a servant of the Machine God.

Astartes were not as superstitious as the rest of the Imperium's servants, but even he could not wonder if the girl's appearance was an Omen.

The Lyman's Ear that replaced his human ears could amplify and filter out sound more akin to a mechanical sensor than to a flesh and blood organ. Thus he had little trouble hearing the women's chatter as he kept pushing the truck towards them.

"Oh-my-Dust is he pushing that truck all by himself? That's cool!" The almost Tech-Adept girl sounded so cheerful that it was odd to hear. None in the Imperium, or out of it, had he heard talking in such a carefree, upbeat tone.

"I have to say I thought you were exagrating, Yang, but he is too big to get in the driver seat. I never quite heard of anybody as big as him." Commented the noble in white, her voice as refined as he would expect it to be. Most likely the leader of the group, Aramus decided.

"He is pushing it quite fast, Ruby. I told you he picked up Bumblebee like a lunchbox." The blonde aquitance replied. "His arms are thicker than my thighs, Weiss. I wonder what kind of pounding such a man could give..."

"Yang, at least try to behave in public." The high-born heiress rolled her eyes. "I meant his fighting abilities, you perverted snow angel." This comeback elicited loud giggling from the hooded one, Ruby.

Weiss, a name that sounded like the tongue of Krieg. He had heard the word mentioned on an ice planet by the Guardsmen, but never cared enough to ask what its exact meaning was. He was too busy trying to dislodge the Orks from the water refineries at that time. Yang's eyes were purple like that of a Cadian. Ruby's habit bore some resemblance to the holy vestments of the Tech Priests. Perhaps she styled herself as one, based on some ancient legend. He would have to investigate.

* * *

"I bet he could teach you to pound really well, Yang. You two should totally armwrestle and the looser would buy me cookies!" Ruby suddenly blushed and made an loud 'oooh' sound as she realised the 'pounding' part may have been referring to something other than melee combat.

"Come on Dolt, Yang's new friend is just three houses away. Let us act with dignity and make a good first impression. Or a less idiotic one, in your case." Ruby felt chastened and looked down at her feet.

Weiss could be as mean as she was pretty, and in Ruby's opinion, Weiss was extremely pretty. Initially she was hopeful when Jaune got shot down, but apparently he was just not cool enough. She had no problems with Neptune as a person, but jealousy was not something she could entire eradicate from her soul. But until they got married, Ruby could still hope for a change in her fortunes.

Her mind was stopped from descending into the gutter as she realised that not only did the big guy push the truck, he was doing it effortlessly with one hand, the other kept on the steering wheel. There was no sweat on his brow, he was not panting, and he was pushing the large vehicle forward with more speed than a team of veterans Hunters could manage.

Yang was right, he was no ordinary hunter. Ruby could feel a dignity radiate from the man, but one that outshone even the fabled Schnee sense of self-worth. He parked the truck before the shop and strode towards them like an ancient knight from a fairy tale, his head held high and his face set in the most serious of knightly expressions that Ruby had ever sawn. She half expected him to ask for the nearest dragon with an abducted princess in need of rescue.

"I offer greetings to you, Huntress Yang, and your companions. I have returned more of the shopkeeper's stolen supplies. I will require your aid in negotiating for his services." He offered a nod, every inch the warrior that Ruby expected. He did sound pompous, but in a good way that brought to her mind thoughts of noble adventure.

"Greetings. I am Weiss Schnee." Weiss offers a nod in return, and Ruby waves excitedly at him. "Hi! I'm Ruby. Ruby Rose! Its good to meet you, Ca Aramus! So what do you want the guy to do for you?"

The man raises an eyebrow. "I am Aramus. I require ammunition for my weapon." Ruby's silver eyes grew wider. "Oh, I'll help! Let-me-help, I-absolutely-love-guns!" She blurted out, too fast for anybody but him to catch. But understand her he did, for he nodded his head once more at her direction. "That would be most appreciated. You have no Tech Adept or Enginseer to contact, do you?"

"No idea who those might be, but I'm the best with weapons!" Ruby smiled at him, finding it odd that he did not smile back. He seemed solemn to the point of outdoing Pyrrha in that regard. "I will be thankful for your assistance." He was not rude, but he was definately off somehow.

* * *

Braun was not fond of working on Sundays, but he had to make ends meet. But he forgot his misery as soon as a young blonde woman appeared in the store, with the giant hunter in tow. Carrying between them the rest of his missing, stolen Dust.

"How did you get this all back? I owe you twice now, Huntsman." He forgot even about a polite greeting as he rushed to check the crates. The content showed slight signs of tampering, but it was almost totally intact with just a few vials missing.

"I recovered these items from forest. The White Fang recividists have left them when they were attacked by the Grimm beasts. These crates too bear the heraldy of your shop." The giant nodded. Now clad in trousers and a shirt that seemed barely to fit him, he was all the more impressive. Thick corded muscles showed on his bare forearms... and were those black, metallic things on his skin cybernetics?

"Thank you, Huntsman Aramus. If there is anything I can do for you..." The small man could not believe his luck, and was surprised by the man's words that came next. "I do require assistance. My ammunition is low and my weapon is... unique. I am in need of resupply. Huntress Yang, Weaponsmith Rose and the highborn Lady Schnee here agreed to help me. Will you repay my honourable return of your property?"

Most Hunters would have either waved off any reward if they were the good sort, or asked for a big payout if they weren't. This man was asking for his help with custom munitions that he wouldn't profit from selling. Than he realised how the giant named the girl in white.

* * *

Highborn Lady Schnee sounded just right. Weiss had to admit she liked it, she liked it a lot more than Ice Queen or any other punny titles her friends called her. At last a proper gentleman, or at least gentlegiant.

"A Schnee? What an honour to have you in my humble shop, Heiress Schnee. Braun Wellington, at your service! I am a most loyal customer of yours! Can I get you something to drink, a tea or coffee perhaps?"

The small, balding man put an end to Weiss's swooning over such proper etiquette. The little man's mustache quivered with anxiety and she knew he would not calm down until she accepted some form of gifts. She had met thousands like him, small shop owners who thought that if they did not suck up to her, their shops would be closed down. Surrendering to the inevitable, Weiss nodded. "Just a cup of tea, if you please."

"Good, good, it will be just a moment, lady Schnee!" Wellington dissapeared into a back office with haste one usually reserves for fleeing from a Grimm ambush.

After a few minutes he returned with the hot beverage and a few sugar cubes on a small platter, offering it to the heiress.  
"Thank you, mister." She took it and put a single sugar cube in the tea.

"Come on man, lets help him! I want to see how big his gun is!" Ruby was practically bagging the shopkeeper, who nodded. "Since all my goods are here I can offer a nice discount. What type of dust would you need?"

"I am not sure. The shells need to match these measurements." Aramus took out something that looked more like a small cannon shell from his pocket and Weiss cringed as she saw Ruby's eyes widen.

"Oh-my-god that is so awesome! What does it do?" She was practically jumping up and down before the puzzled giant, who with some reluctance handed the shell to the young Huntress in training.

"It is a self propelled armour piercing explosive bullet. I doubt you can recrate it. I require something that can be fired from the same gun." Ruby pulled Weiss in closer to show her the round, her face lighting up with the joy that most teenage girls reserve for a particularly cute puppy.

"What type of Dust does it use?" The snow haired heiress turned to Aramus. "It does not use Dust. It uses fyceline in both the firing charge and the rocket booster, diamantine and adamantium for the metallic parts and depleted uranium and fyceline mix for the explosive."

"I got no idea what those are. So it buries in the target and explodes." Weiss thought the weapon sounded a little bit too brutal, but the sheer craftmanship that went into the shell had her breathless. There were prayer strips engraved on it and tiny skull like symbols. It was as much a work of art as it was a bullet. Nora's heart-marked grenades were just outdone big time. Whoever Aramus was, he was no commoner, that was sure. Such craftmanship had to be extremely costly.

"What type of Dust would you like to use? Explosive, Fire and Ice are all good choices for the bullet." Weiss looked closer at the shell, but she could not understand the language. The letters were familiar, but the language was not one known to her. But at the back end of it was a serial number, and clearly intelligible hand made inscription reading 'For the Emperor' . He did not seem like the Mistral type, and their emperor was symbolic... and usually not capitalised.

"I will defer to your greater wisdom, Lady Schnee." Weiss glowed with pride. Finally the respect she deserves! Well she did until Ruby got the shell out of her hand. "Oh! This is latin!" Weiss blinked. "La-what?"

"Latin. The family had some religion generations ago and I kinda went through the old holy books. I and Uncle Qrow took the cross motif from there, it looks cool! Nobody is really religious anymore but it was interesting! It says... Emperor Mankind our salvation... I think!"

"Praise be His glorious name!" Aramus tried to keep a low profile, but a praise to the Emperor had to be answered. "Okey so who is this emperor?" Asked Ruby without much consideration, causing the giant to frown. "A tale for another time, young weaponsmith."

"I need to see the gun that fires it. Do you have it on you?" The giant dissapeared back to the truck, before returning with the most brutal looking gun Weiss ever saw.

* * *

Ruby was ecstatic as she saw the gun. It was at once brutish like an industrial tool, and beautiful with many golden inlays and symbols all over it. As if someone chose to practice his art on an Atlas Mech. The upper part had a strange, bulbous barrel and what appeared to be coils running along the upper side of the gun. The lower part was a huge-bore rifle that obviously fired bullets like the heavy, ominous piece in her hands.

"Oh-my-god what type of gun is that? So-awesome-I-want-to-see-how-it-works!" Ruby was once again surprised as the giant had no trouble understanding her.

"Righteous Judgement, my Plasma combi Bolter. I only have one hundred and eighty shells left, including the one in your hand. I require more."

She run her hands over the gun. It seemed heavy and dangerous, but it was beautiful too. The two headed eagle heraldy and winged skulls on it looked grim, but to Ruby Rose it was a work of art. A weapon clearly as beloved as her Crescent Rose, for none would put such miniscule golden script on a gun who was not very powerful and very wealthy. "The lower part fires the bullets... what does the upper part fire? Lightning? Flames? I can't make sense of it!"

Ruby had never seen a type of gun she could not instinctly understand the workings of, but the upper part mystified her. It was something truly out of this world. Aramus couldn't be a regular Hunstsman. This was cutting edge technology.

"Combi... plasma? Isn't plasma what some scientists say make up stars?" Weiss was looking at the gun with awe. Being a Schnee required one to be fully informed about the latest technological trends. Plasma was a proposed matter that existed in stars. As far as she knew, not even the Atlas military had luck with it. Lasers yes, but plasma not yet.

The strange man nodded. "I will require a source of pure hidrogen." Ruby's eyes lit up. "A gun that fires star fire? Oh-dust-I-need-that!" Aramus looked down at Ruby like a forbidding knight out of legend. "Can you make shells that will fit the weapon?" Shaken back to the real world from dreams of Crescent Rose going pew-pew, Ruby nodded. "It will take a few days but you can count on me."

"You will all be handsomely rewarded." He nodded and Ruby gave the shell back to him. The man easily undid the box magazine and pushed the last shell back into place. Ruby watched with her eyes wide. If the gun could fire at normal speeds, it would be utterly devastating.

"Come back when you need my dust powder." Mister Wellington replied and they said their goodbyes to the shopkeeper. Aramus put the gun back inside the truck.

"Now I need to find accomodations that has an electric outlet, and the tools necessary to tap into it."

* * *

Yang could not help herself but giggle when she saw Aramus trying to get into truck pushing position again. "I can drive that, you know!" The man took it with a graceful bow and got into the back of the truck, while Weiss took the right seat with Ruby squeezed between them.

The blonde girl smiled to herself as Ruby kept on talking about how amazing the gun was. She herself was more interested in the gun's wielder, and Weiss looked like she was intrigued as well. The man was a mystery to be solved.

She knew the city well, and very soon they found their new friend a rather cheap housing. It was not in a bad district, but it was a rather run down small home. Aramus surprised her during the negotiations by pulling a very generic motorcycle model out of the back of the truck. That in itself would cover a few months of the rent, and the landlord was more than happy to own an unregistered vehicle.

The house was not something a Schnee would be usually caught in. The wallpaper was worn, the floor tiles faded, the furniture twenty years out of fashion. But it had a strong connection to the power grid, a cellar, and a large enough garage for the truck.

Weiss opened the gate, Ruby opened the garage and Yang parked the truck inside. Aramus apparently leapt from the back onto the bare concrete floor. The truck was rocked by the lessening of weight. He was much heavier than any men she had ever seen. Something that she resolved to keep in her mind.

The man bowed his head to the three girls. "I thank you for your assistance, noble huntresses. Is there anyway I could get information here? A library perhaps?"  
"You could look stuff up on your Scroll." The man looked a bit puzzled. "I do not have any scrolls about this information, neither do I see scrolls on you."

It was Ruby's turn to laugh as she showed Aramus her Scroll, and after a minute of instructions the large man was searching through the CCT systems like a man searching for water in the desert. His fingers worked on it with a speed that fascinated all three girls, and after a minute he gave it back to Ruby. "Thank you, young weaponsmith."

"So you don't know a lot about Dust, about Scrolls and yet that gun was as advanced as any hardware out of Atlas's top research projects." Weiss was looking at him with an inquisitive air, before Ruby poked her in the ribs and showed her the search history. Yang leaned in closer and Aramus frowned.

Many of the words were strange, maybe more of that latin thing. Imperium, Imperium of Man, Segmentum, Astartes, Imperator, Mechanicus, Administratum and other words that sounded like proper words with 'um' and 'us' added to their back. The rest were all the more strange for being totally understandable. Emperor, God Emperor, Divine Emperor, Warp travel, Imperial Guard, Tech Priest, Mankind, Humanity, void ship, star ship, space ship, space port, star port, space travel, xenos, aliens, stellar war, space marines, space marine chapters, space marine legions.

These all had one thing in common. They were words and phrases straight out of science fiction books like Space Dust and Grimm from Outer Space. A man stood before them, yet larger than a man and wielding a weapon that fired non-Dust explosives and star fire. A lot of people made the mistake of taking Yang's punny and light hearted nature as an indicator of low intelligence. These people however were very wrong.

Yang needed no one else to figure this out for her. The man, his ragged outfit, his confused ignorance, and yet his lordly bearing and his strange weapon. He was out of this world in a much more literal sense than she first thought. It was however Ruby that spoke up first.

* * *

"Are you a space knight?" She asked, looking up at Aramus with amazed eyes. The large man's face narrowed into a frown and he looked down at them imperiously. Weiss moved to approach the man. "If you are a local, you can tell me about the types of Grimm. Surely any warrior like you would know them. How does a flying Grimm look?"

Ruby waited for Aramus to answer, and after a minute that he spent in deep deliberation, the giant nodded. "I am not built for subtletly. State the price of your silence, mortals." There was an edge that was not there before, and the word 'mortal' cut through everybody's senses.

"Look big guy. First, don't use that voice with my little sister. We did nothing but help you! Second, tell the truth." Ruby smiled as Yang put the large man in his place, who looked to be thinking fiercely to himself still. She just hoped he was not thinking about hiding the bodies or abducting them.

"The words you searched indicate that you are a human soldier... a space marine." Weiss looked at him with those piercing, wonderful blue eyes that made Ruby forget her predicament for a moment. "A space marine of the Emperor. That is what you are, aren't you?" Weiss looked at him with open defiance.

Aramus let out a low sigh that reminded Ruby of the collective Schnee family trademarked 'Noble in distress' sigh. Then he straightened out fully. Ruby shrank back a little on instinct. As if a cloak fell from his shoulders, Aramus stood before them tall and noble, and for the first time Ruby realised how truly huge he was. He was fully twice her height and the clothes Yang got him could barely hold muscles back.

There were also what looked like mechanical connection points that covered his exposed lower arms, their colour an odd metallic black. He was much more than a human. He was clearly a human and not an alien, but he was not really human. Nothing human was that big.

"I am Captain Aramus of the Blood Ravens Fourth Company of Adeptus Astartes, Scion to the Immortal God Emperor of Mankind and lord amongst the Angels of Death. I am the savior of the Aurelian sub-sector and Space Marine of the Imperium of Man. "

His voice was louder, somehow deeper and more resonant. All three girls were spellbound by the sudden majesty the space marine projected. "Ca Aramus... Captain Aramus... sneaky bastard!" muttered Yang, before Weiss spoke up.

"You are clearly a high ranking officer of noble bearing. What do you wish to do with us? Why are you here alone?"

"I require your aid. I have been marooned on this world due to a malfunction of my armour's teleporter. I need to get back to my Company and assume command once more. My duty to the Emperor Most High requires nothing less, thus I will accomplish this or die trying."

Did he not say he was related to this Emperor, Ruby mused as the giant went into the back of the truck and came back to lay down a large, thick fabric before beginning to put pieces of his armour on it, carrying each one reverently from the truck.

Ruby's eyes widened as she saw the ornate, brutal red armour with the raven and blood drop symbol, the giant sword, skull decorated shield and the strange pistol. He knelt before his armour and muttered somethig that sounded like a prayer.

She moved without thinking, stepping closer to examine the armour. It was a masterwork like the weapons, its decorations grim and imperious. The giant red cape won her approval instantly as did the black, bone and gold highlights. "It is so beautiful."

"That is the Armour of Glory. A relic of the Chapter for many millenia." It did have an age of antiquity about it, the armour of an ancient knight reimagined for warfare amongst the stars. "So you are related to this emperor?" Asked Yang, looking at Aramus with the same wonder as Ruby looked at the armour.

"All Astartes... Space Marines are imbued with the blood of the Emperor. That is what separates us from mortal men. A spark of His divine majesty flows in the vein of every battle-brother of every Chapter." Ruby felt the urge to bow. Had anybody else said they were the descendants of a god, she would have laughed. But Aramus ment it, and she felt the truth of conviction in those words.

"So you are a soldier of an Empire. What do you fight?" Asked Weiss. The giant nodded, apparently approving of Weiss's logic. "The servants of Chaos, the same fell power that is behind these Grimm you fight, as well as the xenos. The alien that wishes to destroy Mankind."

"So your Empire is the only human kingdom?" Yang asked, and he nodded. "Some humans serve the dark powers, but mostly that is the truth."

"Wish we could persuade Professor Port to let you tell a war story. I bet you could do it better than him." Yang chuckled, and Ruby swallowed. Her sister seemed very impressed with the space knight.

"Will you swear upon your honour as a warrior that you will aid me, before the all knowing sight of the Emperor on the Golden Throne?" Ruby shivered, and felt that there was much hanging in the balance.

"Will you help us in return?" Asked Weiss. "I will aid you if you aid me. That I swear upon my honour. The honour of a Space Marine is his life, and none may dispute it."

The three girls all swore to assist the space knight, and he accepted their word with a very solemn bow of his head. "First I need your help in connecting my armour to the electric grid of the village's generatoria."

The three girls all examined the heavy generator backpack that Aramus held as if it was a light school book pack. "We'll need to get some wires..." Yang mused, before Ruby interrupted her. "First, we need cookies. I don't know what space men eat, but I'm starving!"


End file.
